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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145731">nothing safe is worth the drive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevirtch/pseuds/thevirtch'>thevirtch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:47:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevirtch/pseuds/thevirtch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One lesson you learned from your earliest days of knowing Scott Moir is that he is never satisfied with anything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scott Moir &amp; Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i scrawled this on the back of my literature book during a forty minute class. enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You meet Scott on a Friday, because your mothers were friends. </p><p>“Come on, honey. It’ll be fun,” your mother encourages, leading you to the boards of the frigid rink where a bunch of young boys were trying to push each other off balance on their precarious skates.</p><p>“Hi sweetie, this is Scott,” Alma introduces her son, the shortest one in the group. Despite this, he seems as though he’d been placed on skates the moment he was born. He’s a natural, and skates with more ease than the other children combined. </p><p>He considers you for a while, and then turns, almost managing to skate away before being stopped by his mother, who hisses at him to “say hello, Scott.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, he looks back at you. He’s taller than you, but not by much, and his caramel brown eyes flicker onto your hands, which fidget when you get nervous. Which you are.</p><p>“Hey,” he says half-heartedly, and then races off to join his friends before you even get a chance to respond.</p><p>Skating class is okay for the most part, but you notice that Scott isn’t interested at all. In fact, you think he must be making a conscious effort to appear uninterested, because he gets kicked out of class a grand total of nine times in the span of two hours. In spite of yourself, you can’t help but laugh at some of his antics. Scott Moir was such a <em> boy</em>.</p><p>You don’t know why, but something inside you wanted his approval. It wasn’t as if he was especially remarkable, but still, some part of you wanted him to like you. </p><p>So you copy him. You notice the glide of his blade, his charisma, the way he grins when he lands his first triple jump, all the things that makes up <em> Scott</em>. And you do the same. You imitate how he skids to a stop at the boards, and jumps over the ledge to get off the ice. You imitate the way he laughs at everything. You think that maybe he might like you.</p><p>Your mothers call you his shadow.</p><p>And then one day, by some peculiar happenstance, you start skating with him. It just so happened that both of you were about the same height, and his aunt thought it would be a good idea to try it out. You can’t decide whether to feel nervous or excited.</p><p>Holding hands with him gives you a funny feeling in your stomach, but one look at the mischievous grin on his face and you know you’re headed for trouble. He speeds off once he gets the cue from his aunt, and you struggle to catch up. Once you both (ungracefully) complete a single lap round the rink, he drops your hand and skates away, complaining to his mother that he “didn’t like it.”</p><p>Still, the women at the rink are persistent, and so are you.</p><p>You take it upon yourself to be the bigger person. When he loses his temper (which is more often than not), you are the one who calms him down. When he becomes difficult and starts protesting, saying how he’d “rather play hockey”, you coddle him by reminding him that “we can get ice cream when we’re done”, which does the trick of placating him most of the time.</p><p>The parents at the rink praise your patience, and his mother smiles at your tolerance for her son, who in her words could be “quite the handful.”</p><p>You stay by his side, and every time one of you messes up, you’re the first one to say “it’s okay, let’s try it again.” No matter how shitty he made you feel for the first few weeks of being Scott Moir’s skating partner, you would always force a smile and pretend like you didn’t mind one bit, even though it was secretly killing you inside. </p><p>“Why doesn’t Scott like me?” You ask your mother one day after a particularly terrible day at practice. (Scott’s aunt suggested you start on lifts, and the first time Scott attempts to get the lift up, he catches his toe pick and both of you come crashing down, leading his aunt to yell at him and making matters worse. He apologises sheepishly, because he isn’t a dick, and he genuinely looks sorry. After that, he becomes less confident and you both leave feeling dejected).</p><p>“Sometimes boys are just like that, honey. Don’t mind him, he’ll come around,” her mother would say, adding “I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>A month later, both of you go to your very first competition. He’s stopped being childish for the most part, and even smiles at you before taking the ice, which you consider as a small victory in itself.</p><p>You skate a clean compulsory, and you both manage to get through that tricky lift without a problem. Everyone cheers when you win the competition, and you think you’ve never seen him look so happy before.</p><p>It’s not until after the competition that the other shoe drops.</p><p>“Okay Mom, I kept my promise. Can I stop ice dancing now?”</p><p>You overhear as you make your way back to the dressing room to congratulate him. You feel betrayed, blindsided, even. Weeks of putting up with his bullshit, and that's what he has to say?</p><p>The next day, you tell your mother you want to quit skating. </p><p>One lesson you learned from your earliest days of knowing Scott Moir is that he is never satisfied with anything.</p><p>Until he met Tessa. You watch as the boy you thought you knew turned into someone else entirely. You still see him from time to time, because in Ilderton everyone knows everyone. But Tessa is from London, and suddenly, she’s all he can talk about. Tessa this. Tessa that. Tessa Tessa Tessa. </p><p>And then the dreaded day came, when Scott told all your friends in school that he’d been partnered with her. It was the happiest you’d ever seen him, even happier than that time you both won your first competition. And then suddenly Scott was no longer just Scott, but ScottAndTessa. TessaAndScott. </p><p>On the occasion that your parents take you to the rink (your siblings love to skate, unfortunately for you), you see them skate together, with the grace that you and him never had. You watch as the once rambunctious eight year old became a nine year old with the poise of a seasoned skater. You watch as he twirls her around after they finish their lap around the rink, and how he never lets go of her hand. You watch as he looks right into her eyes, instead of avoiding her entirely. You watch as he just laughs when they mess up, taking her hand to start over again. (He also never drops her, you note). You watch as the boy who acted as if he wanted nothing to do with girls fell in love with his skating partner. And then you questioned if maybe it didn’t have anything to do with girls, and it had everything to do with the fact that it was <em> you </em> he had for a partner. You try not to let that get to your head.</p><p>You watch as they become Canada’s Next Best Thing. You watch as everyone forgot about how, actually, you were his very first skating partner, the one who stuck with him through all his shenanigans. The narrative was rewritten, two small town kids with a childhood dream of making it to the Olympics. They met when she was seven and he was nine, and they’ve skated together ever since, always linked with each other. To speak of Tessa was to speak of Scott, and vice versa. How romantic.</p><p>In the later days of their career, they would say it was all a performance, and how flattered they were that people were invested in their partnership, and that they were simply just best friends. But you knew the truth. For the record, you were given the front row seat to the Tessa and Scott show your entire life.</p><p>-</p><p>When Scott turned eighteen, he invited your group of friends to his party, and, to your surprise, Tessa. (He almost never brings her around anymore, even though she lives ten minutes from his place. If you were spiteful, you would’ve said he was ashamed of your group of friends.)</p><p>He asks you to be nice to her, because she doesn’t know anyone. </p><p>“Why me?” You ask, unsure of why he would pick you.</p><p>“You’re friendly enough,” he shrugs, giving you his classic grin that made your insides melt. Enough. That’s what you were to him. And then it dawns on you that you’re the only female in your friend group. You almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. <em>Of course he chose you</em>, you think, <em>no way Scott Moir is going to let any of his buddies anywhere near his precious skating partner.</em></p><p>She shows up in a sundress and you don’t know why he’s so worried. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought they were all celebrating Tessa’s birthday. She is the centre of everyone’s attention. Suddenly, the guys you knew since elementary school transform into gentlemen. The sight almost makes you burst into hysterics. You know all too well that none of them stand a chance with Tessa Virtue.</p><p>She feels out of place at the party, you can tell by way she keeps glancing at Scott, the way her smile never quite meets her eyes. Your friends make jokes and Bruce, Scott’s best buddy, even starts a betting pool to get them to kiss. To his credit, Scott just rolls his eyes and laughs it off with a “in your dreams, pal”, pressing a chaste kiss on the crown of her head and calling her "kiddo". (Oh, that's another thing. He calls her kiddo. Tess. T. Virtch. Kiddo. The list goes on.) She blushes profusely.</p><p>Scott’s eyes never leave her. When he blows out the candles, she’s right next to him, and you understand why everyone and their mother thinks that they’re a couple. He cuts the cake, and offers the first slice to her, which she refuses, because “The birthday boy always gets the first slice, Scott”, but he just laughs and takes her hand, holding the paper plate in the other, and they sit on the swing while she feeds him his cake. It’s such a saccharine image, and you think you must feel jealous, or upset, or even hateful, but for some reason, you don’t. At least that's what you tell yourself.</p><p>Later, you’re in his kitchen, because somehow Bruce managed to spill his entire can of beer all over your brand new jeans. It’s then that she walks in, holding the empty paper plate with the remnants of cake icing on it, hiding a secret grin. When she sees you, she gives you a smile, and you can’t help but smile back. <em>Be nice</em>, you tell yourself, <em>she’s Scott’s friend too</em>. </p><p>“Do you need some help?” She offers, spotting the wet stain on your jeans. You want to die.</p><p>“It’s fine, I got it,” you reply, unsuccessfully using a paper towel to dab off the stain.</p><p>“Boys,” she says with a sigh, rolling her eyes playfully.</p><p>“Boys,” you agree, and the next thing you know, both of you are laughing in the kitchen. You realise it’s your first time actually talking to her.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe she isn’t so bad.</em>
</p><p>“So, is it true?” You ask.</p><p>“Hmm?” She says, unsure of what you’re referring to.</p><p>“Are you and Scott a thing?” You’re not sure why you asked.</p><p>“Oh!” She shakes her head, giving you a small smile, “he’s dating Jessica.”</p><p><em>Right</em>, you think to yourself, <em>he’s dating Jessica. The same Jessica who didn’t even show up to the party. Who Scott didn’t even invite. Who he broke up with a month ago.</em></p><p>You don’t tell her that, though. You just plaster a smile onto your face and laugh it off, as if it was the silliest question, and hope she doesn’t notice. (It’s Tessa, so of course she laughs too, far be it for her to make you feel awkward.)</p><p>He offers to drive her home. Your group of friends planned to hit the club, since Scott is finally legal, but he just shakes his head and tells everyone to enjoy themselves.</p><p><em> But it’s your birthday</em>, you want to say to him. </p><p>Tessa politely refuses, and tells him that she can ask one of her brothers to pick her up, but he is adamant. </p><p>“Come on, Tess. You made it all the way here, it’s the least I can do,” he says. Nevermind that she lives ten minutes away.</p><p>“No, Scott, that's too much trouble. You should go celebrate with your friends.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble at all. Plus, Mom would kill me if I made you come here and didn’t give you a ride back. Let’s go,” he says, ending the conversation. You don’t know why, but you can’t help but notice how he made it sound as though she was doing him a favour by hanging out with all of you. You don’t even know why you care.</p><p>-</p><p>Scott is still the same Scott, with or without Tessa, that much you know to be true. Okay, truth be told, you don’t <em> really </em> know how he’s like when he’s actually with Tessa, since he never really brings her around. But you’d like to think he’s the same person anyway. </p><p>So when he asks you to prom, you say yes. For a moment, you try to reason with yourself that it’s purely because you’re the only girl in your friend group, to not get your hopes up, but you get excited nonetheless. </p><p>You splurge on a new dress (because why the hell not), and you obsessively count down the days to prom, as if your life depended on it. Not that anything romantic transpired between you and him, but perhaps his offhand teasing was his way of flirting? One could only assume.</p><p>Prom comes and goes, and nothing becomes of it. </p><p>(Don’t get it wrong, he was a gentleman the whole way through, and he dances with you to one song, which you download onto your iPod and play on the car ride to school everyday. </p><p>Afterwards, you and your friends head to an ice cream parlour, the same one you went to after a long day at practice, when there was no Tessa and you were still his skating partner. </p><p>Speaking of Tessa, she shows up to the parlour, and you think that Scott must have invited her. A white hot anger rises up in you. </p><p>You watch as his eyes widen the minute he sees her, calling her by her nickname, “Virtch! So glad you could make it!” and how he rushes to order her favourite cookies and cream ice cream, confirming your suspicions that he brings her here often. </p><p>You know it’s wrong, but you feel overprotective about Scott bringing his skating partner to your spot. Tessa feels like an intruder, even though you are aware of the ridiculousness of that sentiment.</p><p>You watch as they sit in their own corner, away from prying eyes and the rest of the crowd. You watch as he whispers sweet little nothings into her ears, the way her face lights up with a laugh. You watch as he pretends to steal her ice cream, and ends up feeding her a bite of his as a compensation after she fake-pouts. You watch as he takes her hand when they’re both finished, stacking their cups together and walking out of the parlour, never mind that you were his prom date.</p><p>You think about the time when that was you. When you’d used ice cream as a way to get a very adamant eight year old to skate with you. But Tessa didn’t need to use any form of bribery. You have a feeling that Scott Moir would give her the moon if she asked him to.)</p><p>The way prom went, nothing much happened between the two of you. If you were expecting a goodbye kiss or for him to shower you with love and affection, it didn’t happen. He doesn’t feed you ice cream, and neither does he kiss you on the crown of your head. He doesn’t hold your hand. He doesn’t call you by any nickname, not that he’s ever done that with you before. </p><p>An outsider would describe both of you as old friends having fun, but you want to believe that he likes you as much as you like him, even if it couldn’t be further for the truth.</p><p>Another thing you learned from knowing Scott Moir is that it’s impossible not to fall in love with him.</p><p>-</p><p>Tessa has a new boyfriend. You barely even know what her favourite colour is, but you know for a fact that she is, indeed, seeing someone, because her skating partner hasn’t shut up about it ever since he found out. </p><p>To say that Scott was jealous is an understatement. He quite possibly threw a tantrum, and being the only female friend he knew, you were his listening ear. As always. </p><p>“He’s such a dick, what does she even see in him?” He says, eyebrows pulled close together as his frustration built one Wednesday afternoon when both of you were in the library, seeking refuge from the hot summer heat.</p><p>“Is he good looking?” You ask, because to be honest, you don’t know what else to say. And maybe a part of you was curious about Tessa’s taste in men. For reasons.</p><p>“Not for her. She could do so much better,” he says, shaking his head.</p><p>“Are you jealous?” You say teasingly, but you’re only half kidding.</p><p>He looks at you in disbelief.</p><p>“Jealous? Why would I be jealous of him?” He rages.</p><p><em> Because he has what you want so badly</em>, you want to tell him, <em> even though you’re the one who’s been waiting there all along</em>. It’s one of the few times you’ve ever been able to relate to Scott.</p><p>“Nevermind, forget I even said it,” you say, looking back at your lap.</p><p>The subject of Tessa doesn’t come up again, until months later when you hear she’s getting surgery for her legs. </p><p>“You know what she said to me, the day before the surgery? Her exact words?” He fumes, taking a long sip from his glass. You’re both out at a bar, and he’s on his fourth drink.</p><p>You make a noncommittal sound.</p><p>“She told me to fucking look for a new partner.” He says, staring you straight in the eye.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“What the fuck, right? The goal was Vancouver, and now she wants me to look for a new partner?” He yells in disbelief, followed by a laugh dripping with sarcasm. You don’t think that you’ve ever seen him like this before.</p><p>“Maybe she’s scared,” you offer, and you don’t know why you’re making excuses for her.</p><p>“Whatever. She didn’t have to fucking say that shit.” If anything, he’s made more upset by your comment. </p><p>“This was supposed to be for us. Our games. And now she’s telling me that she doesn’t even want to fucking try? It’s like she doesn’t give a fuck about us!”</p><p>He slams his glass on the table. Honey-coloured liquid splashes all over. You decide to shut up, not wanting to provoke him further as you gesture for him to continue.</p><p>“Twelve fucking years. And she doesn’t even give a damn. She knows I’m not going to find another fucking partner. It’s either we skate or we don’t. End of story. I should tell that to Marina, too, get her off my fucking case. I’m sick of all the tryouts, or practices, or whatever the hell she’s calling it, as if I don’t know what she’s trying to do. I don’t need another partner. I’m sick of everyone talking about ‘wasted potential’, as if I don’t already know?”</p><p>“Did she apologise to you?” You ask after a moment of silence, because for what it’s worth, whatever he said doesn’t sound like the Tessa he’s put on a pedestal for everyone to see, but what do you know?</p><p>“She tried making excuses. It’s all bullshit. I wouldn’t be surprised if Marina or Skate Canada or even my mom put her up to it,” he spits bitterly, taking another drink.</p><p>“You know what hurts the most? The way she said it. Like she thought that was my intention all along, to leave her, and that I had some guilty conscience about it or something,” he says with gritted teeth.</p><p>“That’s not fair, Scott,” you say, against your better judgement. You want to urge him on, say all the things he wants you to say, hate on the woman who had everything you’d ever wanted. But you don’t.</p><p>Maybe that’s how you find yourself in his apartment, in the darkened room, two silhouettes searching in desperation for something they both can’t seem to reach.</p><p>“Shit. I fucked up,” he says, once you’re both spent and lying on his bed.</p><p>You don’t know what to say at first. Fear grips you. Does he regret what you both just did?</p><p>“I need to call her,” he says. And then it hits you. Of course he’s talking about Tessa. Why wouldn’t he, after fucking you? </p><p>He’s slurring on his words, and you know this can’t possibly end well.</p><p>“Scott, trust me, don’t call her when you’re like this. Not when you’re drunk,” you say, looking at him with wide eyes.</p><p>So he doesn’t. For the next two months, he doesn’t call her. It’s the first time he’s ever listened to anything you’ve said. </p><p>It’s the most time you’ve spent alone together with him since both of you skated together. You get a taste of what it’s like to be Tessa, even if it’s just for two precious months. </p><p>You’re the centre of his attention, and he absolutely worships you. He buys you flowers, takes you to fancy restaurants, kisses you after a long day at practice lugging sandbags across the ice, partnerless. You don’t tell a soul about the time Scott Moir was mad at Tessa Virtue. Who would believe you anyway?</p><p>So you let yourself fall for him.</p><p>You think it’s probably the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life. <em> Maybe this will work out</em>, you think to yourself.</p><p>But then Tessa’s cleared to skate again. You watch as the boy you loved for the past two months drift away from you, from the guilt of leaving <em> her</em>, for not calling <em> her</em>, for not being there for <em>her</em>. He seems to have forgotten that the past two months even happened. On his off days, he goes to Jessica’s house (yes, he got back together with her, surprise surprise). You roll your eyes, but you know deep down that this next fling won’t last. Scott Moir is never satisfied with anything, you recall bitterly.</p><p>Then they win the Olympics. Suddenly, everyone wants a piece of them. It’s not just your hometown, the entire country wants them to be together. Thinks that they are together. It’s your worst nightmare. </p><p>Tessa gets another surgery a year later, but this time it’s different. This time, Scott doesn’t run to you. Everyone talks about how <em> nothing </em> can tear Canada’s sweethearts apart. How <em> loyal </em> he was to her. How in <em> love </em> they were with each other. Forget about how you were the only one that was there for him when he was drinking his mind out last year, talking his head off about the same girl he is now supposedly crazy in love with. </p><p>For the next eight years, he's the backdrop of your life. You think you’ve gotten over him, and you move on with someone else, because as much as you want to kid yourself into thinking he’s the one for you, he clearly isn’t ready. All your friends are married, so you shrug and get married to someone else. </p><p>For the next eight years, you try not to think about your first love, your first skating partner, your first prom date, your first best friend. You try not to think about how his hands felt when he was sliding into you, how he’d probably ruined all other men for you. You try not to think about how you’ve been there for him when she wasn’t, and yet she’s the one that he’s always been in love with.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You watch their final skate in Pyeongchang like every other person in Canada. You think about what could’ve been, but <em> you </em> pushed it all away. If there was any doubt that they weren’t a couple before, all of that vanished in their four minutes on the ice. </p><p>
  <em> They’re definitely dating. How sweet are they? </em>
</p><p>You haven’t spoken to Scott in months.</p><p>
  <em> Look at how they look at each other. They’re the perfect couple. </em>
</p><p>Who could blame him for not texting you back, when the entire world was in love with him and his partner?</p><p>
  <em> They are Canada’s sweethearts. No ice dance team will ever come close to Virtue and Moir. </em>
</p><p>You think he must’ve forgotten about you.</p><p>
  <em> When’s the wedding? They were just meant to be! </em>
</p><p>So to your surprise, he invites your group of friends to celebrate with him at a local bar when he returns home.</p><p>He’s different now, and so are you. Your husband is on a work trip, but your marriage died a long time ago. So you go to the bar alone.</p><p>Scott is seated with his buddies when you enter, and you spot Tessa a few feet away talking to her boyfriend number-you-don’t-know. You’ve lost track of the number of men who’ve fallen at her feet. Frankly, you don’t want to know.</p><p>Tessa is like Scott in many ways, despite their constant protests that they are “very different people”. For one, they charm everyone they meet. They have the same sense of humour, they can read people (and each other) like a book. Everyone loves them.</p><p>But you know that there might be some truth to them being somewhat different from each other, even if they don’t know it. For one, Tessa never settles. She’s always someplace, halfway across the world, doing a photoshoot or another interview or another brand deal. She’s constantly on the move, never slowing down to take a breath. </p><p>Scott, on the other hand, wants to start a family in the near future. That’s where they differ, and you keep that thought in the back of your mind throughout the remainder of the night.</p><p>His caramel brown eyes occasionally flick to her, and you spot a glint of frustration in them, and he’s frowning as if he hadn’t just won two Olympic gold medals. He doesn’t notice your eyes resting on him. Whatever, he’s clearly distracted. </p><p>You watch him watch her. For some reason, you tell yourself to continue doing so.</p><p>Until you feel a nudge on your shoulder, and Bruce takes the seat next to you, offering you a beer which you accept.</p><p>“Checking my buddy out?” He says, with a chuckle. </p><p>“Shut up, I am not,” you say, even though you clearly are. It’s not like you tried to hide it for the better part of the past two decades.</p><p>For what it’s worth, Bruce is perhaps the only other person besides yourself who has an idea of your feelings for Scott. Unfortunately for you, he’s also sold on the Virtue-Moir story, in spite of Scott’s protests that nothing was going on between him and his skating partner.</p><p>“Awww, don’t be mad. You got it bad for him, eh?” He says. You decide to play along, and hope your blush will be mistaken for the amount of alcohol in your system.</p><p>“He’s a great guy,” you say, even though you know that’s not the whole truth. Scott might be alright, but he’s by no means a saint.</p><p>“Sure is,” Bruce says, taking a sip of his beer with questions in his eyes. You pretend not to notice.</p><p>You glance at Scott, then back at Bruce. <em> Do you think they ever dated? </em></p><p>It’s almost as if he reads your mind.</p><p>“You know, Scotty told me once that it’s impossible not to fall in love with her,” Bruce admits.</p><p>“I would think so, I mean look at her,” you say, gesturing to Tessa, who just noticed Scott’s gaze and waves at him. He gives her a weak smile in return.</p><p>“That’s not my point. Point is that he likes her. And I’d hazard a guess that she likes him back. So, my question is: why aren’t they dating?” Bruce finishes, drumming his fingers on the table.</p><p>“Because she’s got someone else? I don’t know, I’m not Tessa,” you say, mildly irritated.</p><p>Bruce just shrugs.</p><p>“What about you, then?” He asks.</p><p>“What about me?” You play the innocent card.</p><p>“Why aren’t you with him?”</p><p>For a moment, you consider lying through your teeth about it, telling him that “we’re just friends”. And maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins, but you give him your winning smile and say, “I don’t know, why do you think we aren’t together?”</p><p>“I mean, forgive me for being blunt, but Scotty is pretty dumb. Like, I know guys are dumb in general, but for a guy, he’s up there,” he says, shaking his head.</p><p>“He’ll come around,” you say, because you want to believe it so desperately.</p><p>“Do you think she makes him happy?” He asks you, taking another sip of beer.</p><p>“How would I know? Maybe?” You hate to admit it, but you can’t deny what everyone knows is true. A heavy silence settles between the two of you.</p><p>“I mean, not going to lie, but like, they must’ve been together at some point. I don’t care what he says, they totally were,” he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.</p><p>“I hate seeing him unhappy,” you admit, pretending you didn’t hear a word Bruce said and nodding your head towards Scott. Sure enough, there’s an unmistakable look of disgust on his face as Tessa’s boyfriend brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p>“He deserves to be happy,” you say inconsequentially, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal. Of course, you want to be the thing that makes him happy. But you don’t say that aloud.</p><p>“He does,” Bruce responds, finishing his drink.</p><p>“Even if it’s not with her.”</p><p>He considers what you said for a moment, before nodding and turning around to get more drinks. You don’t even let yourself feel bad for what you just said.</p><p>-</p><p>Back when they trained in Canton, Scott had always come home during his off days in the week. It puzzled you at first, why he didn’t hang out with the skating crowd at Canton, or with his skating partner for that matter. But whenever someone would joke about it, he’d just shrug his shoulders and give a random excuse. </p><p>
  <em> Off the ice, he doesn’t hang out with Tessa. </em>
</p><p>Out of all the painstakingly crafted answers they gave during interviews, this stood out to you the most. Not because it was a particularly good confession, but because you knew it was honest. Scott and Tessa never really hung out together outside of training. Sure, there would be the occasional ice cream date after a particularly hard day, but apart from their scheduled team meetings, media events and therapy sessions, they hardly spent any of their free time together.</p><p>It was a common misconception, because to the casual viewer one would assume they were joined at the hip. And in some ways, they were. But Scott spent most of his days back home. Although you hated admitting it, part of that filled you with indescribable satisfaction. For what, you didn’t know. In hindsight, it should’ve been your first red flag.</p><p>When they took time off after Sochi, Scott hardly saw Tessa. You thought it was over, everyone thought they would retire. That they’d moved on, that they would stop competing.</p><p>But on a cold September evening you’d heard the news, passed along by Bruce. They were returning to competition.</p><p>To say that the news shocked you would be an understatement. Scott moved to Montreal, and never looked back. He’d moved into the same apartment complex as her, you heard. </p><p>And while they once never spent a free weekend alone together, they’d been inseparable since the comeback, or so you heard. Really, the information you got nowadays was passed by word of mouth, because you hardly ever saw him. If you’d known how the comeback had changed him, you would’ve held on to the Scott you knew. You would’ve done something, anything, before he turned into a complete stranger to you.</p><p>-</p><p>Tessa and Scott go on tour a few months after the reunion at the local bar, and Scott invites the old gang to the show in London. You don’t want to go, because between your failure of your marriage and the inevitable attention on Scott and Tessa, you think that nothing good can come out of it.</p><p>Scott calls you a day after you tell him you can’t make it. You make up some stupid excuse, but in the end he manages to convince you to come with his classic Moir charm that made you fall head over heels for him in the first place. You didn’t stand a chance then, and you absolutely don’t stand a chance now. </p><p>It’s Tessa’s birthday. You want to laugh at the universe, because your life is like a comedy, and you’re the punchline to a badly written joke. Of course it’s her birthday.</p><p>You don’t know what the hell to give to a girl who you don’t really know, so you buy her a picture frame and hope it gets forgotten in the deluge of birthday gifts that are piled on the table tucked at the corner of the room.</p><p>Where Scott is. His eyes are on her, as if she’d hung the moon and the stars. Forget hanging, she <em> is </em> his moon and star. He stares at her as if there’s no tomorrow, as if she’d disappear if he turned away for even just a second.</p><p>He doesn’t even notice you. Not that you expected him to.</p><p>The night drags on, as if the universe was slowly torturing you. You thank the heavens for alcohol, because there’s no way in hell you were getting through the night sober. You don’t really pay attention to anything, because you’re way too caught up in your thoughts to care, and the last thing you need is to see him look at her in <em> that </em> way. You nod at conversations you aren’t present in, you smile whenever you see a familiar face, you clap when they sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her like you’re supposed to.</p><p>Once the party is over, all of you head to a club, and you talk to Tessa for the second time in the twenty years you’ve known her.</p><p>“It’s so great to finally see you again! I missed you last month at the bar,” she says excitedly, and embraces you as if you were her lifelong friend, because that’s just the kind of person she is.</p><p>You return the sentiment, and somehow both of you end up seated together at the diner, wrapped up in a conversation. Her boyfriend (you think his name is Ryan or something) is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“So, what are you planning to do now that everything’s over?” You ask, after ordering drinks for both of you.</p><p>“Well, we’re planning a tour, actually. Scott and I. We have some things in mind, and we committed another two years together, so we’ll probably skate together for that long, and then reevaluate when the time comes,” she says, giving you the media prepared answer you’ve heard countless times on your television screen.</p><p>“That’s nice,” you say, “so when’s the wedding?” You can’t help the bluntness in your tone, and thank your lucky stars that Tessa decides you’re joking and starts laughing. You laugh along with her.</p><p>“Trust me, you’d be first on the invitation list if that ever happens. Speaking of which, whatever happened to the betting pool when we were teenagers?”</p><p>“Oh, it still exists, trust me. And I’ll be very rich if he doesn’t get down on one knee in the next six months,” you respond. You don’t know why you tell her that.</p><p>You want to laugh at the craziness of the situation. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined sitting with the woman who has the man you love in the palm of her hand, laughing about a nonexistent wedding. </p><p>“Well, good for you, I’m holding out a few years before settling, you’re welcome,” she says, and it takes a moment for you to register what she’s said. She doesn’t mention that she already has a boyfriend.</p><p>You feel your inner self gloating at the accuracy on how Tessa Virtue would never settle. <em> A few years</em>. Plenty of time for things to happen.</p><p>“So you guys aren’t together, then?” You ask. The alcohol in your system has made you bolder than you’d like.</p><p>She laughs again, and you feel a little deja vu from when both of you were much younger, in Scott’s kitchen, with your beer stained jeans and her pink sundress.</p><p>“Not you, too!” She exclaims exasperatedly, shaking her head, “we aren’t like that, but you know that already.”</p><p><em> Do I? </em>you think to yourself. </p><p>“I had to ask,” you say, shrugging, trying your best to cover the awkward tension that the loaded question brought to the table, “the whole country seems to think otherwise.”</p><p>You wonder, then, if the woman sitting across from you ever got wind of your feelings for Scott. Did she notice the way your eyes stay fixated on him at every party? Did she notice the way you’re always mentioning Scott in conversations, even when there was no reason for it? </p><p>You wonder if she’s even aware of her partner’s obsession with her. <em> Do you know that Scott is madly in love with you? Do you even love him the way I do? </em></p><p>But then, her boyfriend (who’s name you still do not care to remember) walks up and leans in close to her. She gets up, and touches your shoulder.</p><p>“Sorry, he has work tomorrow, so I’d better get going. It’s been so nice to catch up with you!” She says, leaving you with a handful of unanswered questions.</p><p>Scott booked hotel rooms for all of you, insisting that it’s the least he’d owed everyone after twenty years of putting up with him. You’re on the same floor as Tessa, because you’d seen her that morning, fresh out of bed, but looking flawless as usual. You head past her room, and that’s when you hear the shouting.</p><p>
  <em> “What the fuck, Tessa?” </em>
</p><p>It’s unmistakable, the voice that pierces through the thin walls.</p><p>Scott. </p><p>You want to walk away but you’re frozen to the ground outside her room. Their voices are muffled, but Canada’s sweethearts are <em> yelling</em>, actually yelling at each other, and that’s all you need to know.</p><p>And then she screams back.</p><p>Of the years you’ve known Tessa Virtue, never in your wildest dreams would you have anticipated her screaming at anyone, let alone her skating partner.</p><p>
  <em> “You’re so fucking impossible!” </em>
</p><p>Someone throws something, and it lends with a thud on the carpeted floor. The screaming goes on for a few minutes, and that’s when it turns to desperation.</p><p>
  <em> “Scott, wait, please.” </em>
</p><p>You hear her begging, begging for him.</p><p>
  <em> “Scott, don’t. Please don’t go. I’m sorry. I fucked up Scott I fucked up I’m sorry I’m sorry please don’t go please, please.” </em>
</p><p>She’s crying now, and somehow that realisation shocks you more than the fact that you just heard her swear.</p><p>
  <em> “Please don’t leave please I’m sorry Scott please. Please don’t leave me.” </em>
</p><p>She’s pleading with him now, and you know that it’s your cue to leave. You don’t hear his reply, but you feel an overwhelming sense of sympathy for her.</p><p>You find her later at the hotel lobby, staring aimlessly at a centerpiece, eyes glazed over. You hesitate before approaching her, unsure if it’s the right move. </p><p>But then, you see him rushing out of an elevator, looking around desperately. You stop in your tracks.</p><p>Scott’s eyes turn from desperation into concern when he locates her, and he leans down towards where she’s sitting, taking her hands in his. You watch as he whispers something to her, and she nods before he embraces her. </p><p>The sight of them holding each other feels so intimate that you feel as if you’re intruding on something. </p><p>Then, he pulls her up and carries her to the elevator and the doors shut. </p><p>The next morning, you find him creeping across your floor, leaving her room at the crack of dawn.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello! i’ve decided to make this a 3-part fic, because this chapter was getting too long and i’m tired. no, seriously, i have no idea how people manage to write 50,000 word fics, because i can barely keep up with this one. as always, this is completely my pure imagination, and there are definitely a lot of things i changed to the real timeline because it’s fictional with no real world implications. could this have happened in real life? possible, but highly unlikely. still, that’s what’s so fun about writing. it’s so heartwarming to see people get attached to the characters, but at the end of the day, it’s a fantasy. that said, it doesn’t take anything away from whatever you feel while following their journey on this fic. cry, beg for a happily ever after (whether that will happen is another thing altogether), fight for the characters. hopefully, i’ll complete this soon. thank you for staying and reading and for all your lovely comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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